


The Morning After The Night Before

by EbonyKnight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyKnight/pseuds/EbonyKnight
Summary: Greg wakes up with Sherlock the morning after solving a very difficult case and John makes an unexpected discovery.





	The Morning After The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock doesn't belong to me. I'll get over that one day. Maybe.

Bright morning sunlight light pierced Greg’s eyelids, dragging him from the depths of sleep. He turned his face away in a futile effort to stave off full consciousness, and, when that inevitably failed, lifted his left arm and draped it over his face, attempting to physically shut out the light. It didn’t work; light stubbornly lingered around the outline of his arm, but it was almost, _almost_ enough. Floating somewhere between asleep and awake, he settled back into the pillows and allowed himself to enjoy the warmth and comfort.

He was, however, soon more awake than asleep, memories of the previous few days forcing themselves to the forefront of his mind. He knew that finding thirteen year old Evie, brutally beaten and raped, a few hours too late to help was going to stay with him for the rest of his life. Seeking comfort, Greg subconsciously gravitated towards the warm body beside him. 

Unfortunately, his bed partner was never going to top a list of people to whom one should turn for comfort, even after they’d spent the better part of two days chasing a vicious child rapist across London. “Stop fidgeting, Lestrade,” Sherlock grumbled, impatient even when barely conscious. 

Greg smiled and shifted closer, enjoying being close to another person even if he was all elbows, knees, and attitude. He didn’t know how long they had before his alarm went off and he had to get up and face the day, but was determined to enjoy every moment of it while it lasted. 

“I can hear you thinking. Stop it or go away.” Sherlock’s chin was rough against Greg’s shoulder and the older man smiled at the petulance. They’d been doing this, falling into bed when things got rough, since Sherlock shortly after had come back from the dead, and Greg had always found his morning grumpiness cu— “No, don’t even _think_ it,” Sherlock snapped, interrupting the thought before it had even fully formed. 

“But you _are_ ,” Greg told him, finally lifting the arm from his face. A glance at his watch showed that it was just gone eleven, but it took a long moment for that to register. He looked again, because that couldn’t possibly be right, and sat bolt upright. “What the fuck?” he demanded, thigh muscles protesting as he flung the quilt back and swung his legs out of bed. He was nude except for his socks, but his trousers were within easy reach even if he couldn’t immediately see his shirt. “I set my sodding alarm for seven! How the hell is it gone eleven?”

“Because I turned it off after you fell asleep,” Sherlock replied, watching with a smirk as Greg fought with the left leg of his trousers. “I also emailed your boss and told her that you’ll be in after noon, so stop hopping around like that before you do yourself an injury.”

“You — _How_? My phone was locked!” Greg won the battle against his trousers and picked up his crumpled shirt, hoping that he had a spare at the office. 

“Yes, and you use Touch ID.” Sherlock rolled onto his front, exposing the long line of his back to Greg’s gaze. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to unlock when I had access to all of your digits.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sherlock. Do you even know what privacy is?” Greg asked the back of Sherlock’s head as he tucked his shirt in. When there was no response, the older man sighed and gave it up. Arguing with Sherlock was like arguing with a brick wall at the best of times, and he couldn’t deny that he’d have struggled to get his arse in to work on time after the night they’d had. Besides which, it was hardly the worst incursion into his privacy in the years they’d known each other. Dressed, and as ready to face the day as he would be before he got at the spare supplies he kept at the office, Greg bent down and kissed Sherlock’s head. “Thanks for your help yesterday.” 

“You thanked me very thoroughly last night,” Sherlock rumbled sleepily. “Now, go away.”

Greg smiled and made his way out of Sherlock’s bedroom, stopping to pick up his shoes on the way. Knowing his sometimes lover’s preference for having his bedroom door left open, Greg closed it firmly behind him and ambled down the hall towards the living room, where he hoped Mrs Hudson had left Sherlock’s morning pot of tea. The tea would be long since cold, but she always left a plate of biscuits to go with it. 

What he found, however, was not a plate of biscuits but a grinning John Watson. “Well, I can’t say I was expecting _this_. You and Sherlock, eh?”

Feeling his face heat, Greg dropped onto the sofa to put his shoes on. “There isn’t any me and Sherlock; we just get together sometimes to blow off steam.”

“That’s not all you’re blowing if the state of your knees is anything to go by.” John flicked a glance at Greg’s knees, patently amused.

The older man groaned and resisted the urge to flee. “Very fucking funny,” he said, tying his laces. “You’ll keep quiet about this? The last thing I need is it going round the station that I’m shagging Sherlock.”

“Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me.” John sipped his tea, eyes shining. “Come on; how did this happen?”

“Well, ah,” Greg started, straightening with his cuffs. “Sherlock kind of blackmailed me. He’d been trying it on since he got back, and then I wanted him to come in on a case he’d been saying it wasn’t interesting enough, and he said he’d look at it I had sex with him. I wanted to and he knew it; I stopped saying no, he solved the case, and we had a night of excellent sex. Since then, we just...well, end up in bed sometimes.”

John’s grinned. “You and Sherlock. You’re mad, mate.”

Knowing any arguments that there was no ‘him and Sherlock’ was pointless after being caught leaving Sherlock’s bedroom, he sighed and stood up. “Seriously, it’s just sex. Very occasional sex. Sherlock’s not exactly the relationship type,” he replied, looking for his briefcase and spotting it where he’d discarded it just inside the door when they’d got in last night. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll see you on Thursday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” John confirmed, smiling in a way that said that he was far too amused for Greg’s good. 

Giving in to an urge he’d been fighting since finding John in the living room, Greg fled, face burning as the sound of John’s laughter following him down the stairs.


End file.
